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| − | [[/Siege of Farrowfield/]] | + | {|style="float:right; width:25%; margin-left:10px; margin-right:8px; background:aliceblue; border: 2px; font-size:90%" |
| | + | | colspan="2"|[[File:Monterys0.png|300px|thumb|center|Monterys in the Court of the Dragon King]] |
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| | + | !style="font-size:110%; color:white; background:#00008B; text-align:center" colspan="2" | PERSONAL INFORMATION |
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| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Status:''' |
| | + | | Alive |
| | + | |- |
| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Continent:''' |
| | + | | [[East Island]] |
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| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Realm:''' |
| | + | | [[Perdan]] |
| | + | |- |
| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Class:''' |
| | + | | [[New Class System|Hero]] |
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| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Title:''' |
| | + | | Margrave of [[Westmoor]] |
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| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Weapon:''' |
| | + | | Twin Blades |
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| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Religion:''' |
| | + | | [[Aspects of the Flame]] |
| | + | |- |
| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Unique Items:''' |
| | + | | [[Daemonic Vest of Lysander]]<br>[[Guard of War]] |
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| | + | !style="font-size:110%; color:white; background:#00008B; text-align:center" colspan="2" | ORDER OF SERVICE |
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| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Realms Served:''' |
| | + | |¤ |
| | + | *[[Madina|Kingdom of Madina]] |
| | + | *[[D'Hara|D'Haran Kingdom of the Dragon, Lion and the Sun]] |
| | + | *[[Westgard|Kingdom of Westgard]] |
| | + | *[[Sirion|Republic of Sirion]] |
| | + | |- |
| | + | | style="vertical-align:top; text-align:right;" | '''Lordships Held:''' |
| | + | |¤ |
| | + | *Margrave of [[Paisland]]<br> |
| | + | *Margrave of [[Farrowfield]]<br> |
| | + | *Margrave of [[Gelene Outskirts]]<br> |
| | + | *Baron of [[Mountain of Woe]]<br> |
| | + | *Count of [[Lissambar]]<br> |
| | + | *Count of [[Greatbridge]]<br> |
| | + | *Margrave of [[Trinbar]]<br> |
| | + | *Margrave of [[Westmoor]]<br> |
| | + | |- |
| | + | |} |
| | | | |
| − | ==Siege of Itau== | + | ==Origin== |
| − | {{Message2
| + | Monterys is a member of the Boreean branch of House Velaryon. Son to Tahaerys, brother to Lucerys, Jacaerys and DynysVelaryon. He was born in Darfix during a stormy night according to the ancient tradition of the Boreeans. The females of the Boreean branch then sail to the far northwest to deliver their unborn children in the Silver Temple of Darfix. When the children are born they water their heads in the sacred chalice that gives them characteristic and unusually silver hair. |
| − | |Type = Roleplay
| + | ==Appearance and Character== |
| − | |Sender = Monterys Velaryon
| + | Monterys is a man of medium height and build. He has silver hair, dark eyes and a sincere smile. He wears a black armor and a red cloak, and in battle he wields the twin blades. He is of adventurous and daring character, and his main interests lie in military operations and expeditionary endeavors. He is married to Lyanna Arylon, a sister of his best friend Gheric Arylon and a Duchess of Osmeneliath. |
| − | |Content = The Islander's bagpipes played war tunes and the drums echoed throughout the valley of Itaufield, giving rhythm and raising the morale of the marching army. The banners of the Sea Dragons fluttered in the cold northern wind that came rushing from the mountains and passing along the southern banks of river Chrysal. These soldiers have been in the field for the longest of time, pushed to their very limits, yet their resilience was still strong, and the prospects of war spoils in the rich lands on the eastern coast was very appealing.
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| − | Monterys marched with his men, when a runner catches up with him. „Messire, Margrave Decimus and Ser Ricardo de Alonzo were caught up by the peasants uprising in Elets. The've broken their foe, but Ser Ricardo's men have been battered and bloodied from so many peasants that hurled at 'em. Their pitchforks and rocks can't compete the cold steel of the islander warrior, though.“
| + | ==Chronicles of the Dragon== |
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| − | Monterys nodded, being rest assured that Ricardo is a tough warrior that can ensure his men follow him to the death's gate itself, if need be. | + | ===Madina and D'Hara=== |
| | + | By the time he came of age Monterys inherited the family affairs in Madina. He was quickly enlisted in the army of the Madinan King, Ulfang Mormont, in who he sought a mentor and maintained good relations with during his life. Whilst the Kingdom of Madina drifted in the far southern islands, abandoned by most nobility, the assassination attempt on the life of King Ulfang triggered a mass exodus of the Madinans to the Dragon Isles with the intention to bring the two Kingdoms together as one. The exodus was slow and tedious but Monterys spearheaded the expedition and made early acquaintances with Dragon King Pawl Paxwax, and, upon his arrival, was elected as the Lord General of the Dragon Isles. As the Lord General Monterys fundamentally changed the way the D'Harans fight. Instead of one slow and sturdy army he broke the legions into several smaller, faster groups and fleets which eased the defense of the vast and overspread Kingdom. |
| | + | ===Gold Sea Conflict=== |
| | + | Once the new and united Kingdom consolidated it began to look to the northwest and towards the Gold Sea Conflict which saw Westgard and Tol Goldora in dispute over the claim of Golden Farrow. The Kingdom decided to support its Westgardian allies and formed a new army Sea Dragons to act as a relief army in the war. Monterys took command of Dragons, bringing their repute to new heights. The Dragons achieved many great maneuvers and victories in this conflict, from sacking of Itau to a victory in the [[/Battles for the Farrowlands/]], where he, together with Westgard's sovereign Gheric Arylon, lead his armies in of the most glorious of battles. There, on the blood-soaked walls of Farrowfield, Gheric and Monterys created a strong bond of friendship which shaped Monterys' future. |
| | + | ===Westgard=== |
| | + | In the aftermath of the Gold Sea Conflict Monterys found little challenge to remain in the D'Haran lands. Bound by Gheric's friendship he decided to join him in his attempt to rebuild Westgard from the horrible and devastating consequences it endured during the war. Upon arrival, Monterys assumed the role of a Lord Commander and expanded Westgard further west. There he spearheaded the bastion of humanity against the tide of rogue beasts and devilish creatures, beckoned by the allure of his birthplace Darfix which always acts like a compass to his life, hoping and dreaming that perhaps one day he will set his sights on the Golden City and perhaps even sit on the throne of his ancient forefathers. |
| | | | |
| − | „Double the march!“ He barked in his captain's direction. „We're nearing the walls and men need to rest before the siege. Give them full ratios from the corn we've seized in Dunnbrook. A full belly works wonders when a man needs to go into the fray.“
| + | ==Notable events== |
| − | }}
| + | [[/Full speed to Golden Farrow/]] |
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| − | {{Message2
| + | [[/The Sunset City/]] |
| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Ricardo de Alonzo
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| − | |Content = Men are battered and wounded. What a bloody battle with pesky peasants of Elets. Though we are outnumbered. We have shown. How to battle properly.. I am honored to see Ser Decimus and his men in action.Still searching for a reliable. Captain of my unit. Must continue.. Must follow orders. I relay the order to my men. And they grudgingly obliged. "Don't. Worry. Men we will push through and see the end of this campaign.We will come home with our hard earned honor.We Are Sea Dragons!"
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| − | }}
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| − | {{Message2
| + | [[/Paisland affair/]] |
| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Ricardo de Alonzo
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| − | |Content = "What happened? It is so dark in here what is this place? Where am I?"
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| | | | |
| − | No one answered it is quite and cold here.
| + | [[/Flaming spirits/]] |
| − | As I try to look back and recall what happened before this, strong emotions filled me.
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| − | I was in the battlefront fighting the angry peasants.Though they only use pitchforks and wooden makeshift weaponry they outnumbered us.
| + | [[/Treacherous Waters/]] |
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| − | I was trying to rally my squad and told them to stay in formation. I tried to lead them to do a technical fight in order conserve stamina but efficient in fighting at the same time.
| + | [[/Past and Future/]] |
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| − | My men fought many times before this.They gained experience as well as mental and emotional stress due to long time away from home and many friends died since our first battle.
| + | [[/Lyanna/]] |
| − | I tried my best to have a healthy morale, and in that area I think I did well.However what caused us this predicament I think, is lack of training and mental toughness.
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| − | We lost tact and our lines breached. I got separated and surrounded. Last thing I saw was.a flying stone and hit my helmetless head.
| + | [[/Wedding in Sirion/]] |
| | | | |
| − | I wonder what happened after that. What happened to my men, my noble comrades and our commander
| + | [[Arylon Family/The Disappearance of Lyanna Arylon|Lyanna's Disappearance]] |
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| − | And most of all what will happen to me now.
| + | [[/Embracing the Flames/]] |
| − | }}
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| − | {{Message2
| + | ==Notable battles== |
| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Monterys Velaryon
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| − | |Content = Monterys was flamboyantly climbing the stairs of Castle von Hresvelg, the largest castle in Itau and a personal estate of the Goldoran Margravine Berenis Vasiliev. His soldiers followed behind, their boots sonorously beating on castle's stone stairs, a sound that echoed with large noise, giving the feeling that a thousand men were here.
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| − | As he climbed the terrace that overlooked the Cold Sea, a castellan bowed before him and greeted him. "My Lord, welcome to our humble abode. Our servants are spreading the news of your arrival, and we are ready to surrender the city and bend the knee to the Dragon King. It will just take some time, but I am sure your donations of ale and food will sway the citizens."
| + | [[/Battles for the Farrowlands/]] |
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| − | Monterys looked down upon Itau's harbor. It was a bustling one. Several scores of fishing ships were scattered along the coast, and he could see the first D'Haran flags hoisted on the caravels that were sailing off into the sunset, set off to deliver news and reinforcements from the Dragon Isles. To the north and in the Boiling Sea he could see a long coastline that lead to the Dancing Tides and the Golden City of Darfix. A place of his birth, he was told, and wished to visit it one day.
| + | [[/Zuma/]] |
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| − | In the distance he spotted a lone ship cast off into the ocean. A golden price was being payed, likely some minor noble that was slain during the siege, sent off to the Tidemother on his last journey.
| + | [[/Clash in Commonyr/]] |
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| − | "Castellan" he turned around, "Do show me the way to the Temple of the Tidemother. I would like to make a prayer."
| + | [[/Battle for Montijo/]] |
| − | }}
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| − | ==Paisland affair==
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| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Monterys Velaryon
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| − | |Content = The Lord General's galley was slicing waves on its way to Paisly. As the wind calmed down, the galliots rowed with power and zeal, eager to arrive to Paisly's docks as soon as possible. The crew and soldiery sang hymns to the high seas, reminiscing their glory days from the latest campaign. They were heralded as Kingdom's heroes, the young wishing to join their banner to seek glory and fortune, the old jealous of their deeds and the maidens throwing themselves at anyone who wore a mark of a Sea Dragon.
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| − | Monterys sat alone in his cabin. He nervously studied the map of Maroccidens, preparing the strategy and battle plan should the war with Zuma break out. He had faith that this beast that nested in Paisland can be tamed, yet his profession taught him the importance of anticipation. Being three steps ahead of everyone else usually ends well. He heard stories of this Kettle - a giant rabbit with hundreds of eyes that speaks like a highborn lady? Sounded like a fairy tale to him. But, Maroccidens was a fickle beast that no one truly explored. Who knows what lies beyond the Root river. Dragons perhaps?
| + | [[/Clash for Al Amarah/]] |
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| − | His mind started to sway him to fall in an affair with his own fantasy. He needed a relaxation and a good night's sleep so he calls for one of the girls to make him forget about the Zuma. At least until tomorrow, for that is when he will see the creature.
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Kettle of the Zuma Coalition
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| − | |Content = A screech echoes around the area, causing all people to cover their ears.
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| − | All eyes turn towards the Daimon rabbit as she speaks loudly, “Still I am here, waiting for any sort of hospitality and now, to add to the insult, some of you are using magic against me. You have destroyed some of my helpers, and made the others worry. There will be a response to this. Someone had better get things explained very, very quickly!”
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| − | The colors over her body seem to shimmer slightly, taking on a more red hue.
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Darren Rea
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| − | |Content = Darren sat, head between his knees. His head was swimming drunkenly, and the floor kept moving in front of his eyes. The strong stench of sulfur layered into the blanket of mildew smell wasn't helping in the slightest. While the most recent inn he'd been staying at wasn't clean, at least they had a basement he'd been able to hide in for the last several days. Five days ago, he'd stumbled in, covered in blood, attacked by a magical force. For five days he'd lain it this dingy cellar, right arm broken in half, and blood dripping out of his nose. Five days he'd shivered, waiting for the fever to break. Five days he'd stared at his pack, thinking about the scrolls within, pain coursing though his body. Now, he wished he hadn't been so hasty.
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| − | As soon as the fever passed, he began. He'd stared with clearing the room, as best he could with one arm splinted. Next, he'd carefully laid out his first scroll, one that spoke of Banishment, of cleansing the world of evil. He didn't know who had attacked him, but he could bet who was behind it. By the Four, he'd warned Ulfang and Solomon about the Zuma, but no one seemed to take him seriously. So be it, he'd thought, certainly he could take the matter in his own hands, at least partially. He'd borrowed a few candles from the Innkeep, and rummaged around the bottom of his pack for some chalk. He had been saving it for switching road signs around, but he was sure he could find more in any market.
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| − | Carefully, he copied down the symbols marked in the scroll, a large circle with many runes dancing around its edges. Candles placed and lit, he'd read off the chant, an off-white smoke curling from the floor. Reaching the final word, the smoke shot towards a grimy window, to dissipate before making it even outside. Darren had blinked, before trying to read off the chant again. This time, the smoke blew out the window's edges, rattling the pane on its way by. As the scroll crumbled to ash, he'd doubled over, a wave of nausea washing over him. It passed, after a moment, and he'd gone for his next scroll, this one speaking of Fear. Redoing the circle for the new set of instructions, and refreshing a candle that had gone out, he spoke the next set of Words. He had a similar result, his first try barely lighting up the new circle, and the second try flowing from the cellar like a chill wind. Once again, he'd nearly fell to his knees from a wave of nausea, and once again it had passed, although the feeling still lingered in the back of his throat.
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| − | He'd paused before placing the last, a Summon Scroll. He'd heard horror stories about these, of those trying to cast them, eaten by the results. Stubbornly, he'd soldiered on, re-configuring his circle according to the directions for a third time, and adding a small, dead mouse to the center. This time, the Words had flowed roughly, and the scroll disintegrated before Darren had finished the last word. He'd stood, for a moment, disappointed, before he dropped to his knees, single arm holding him up, shaking as he vomited his breakfast all over his carefully drawn circle. Several heaves later, Darren had sat back, head pounding.
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Darren Rea
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| − | |Content = Here he sat, several minutes later, cursing himself for his foolishness. Dominic would have smacked him upside the head for even trying magic, after the pain it had caused their family. Darren sighed, head starting to clear. Dominic would have better things to smack him over first, he supposed. Darren smiled, thinking of the tongue lashing Dominic would have given him for trying to stab the King, in comparison to that, a few scrolls would have been minor. A deep well of sadness overtook him, even giving the sickness pause. He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but to no avail. His brother, lost, and likely murdered after Darren's failure. Hot tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, and his throat jumped to his mouth. His fault, for not planning out his moves through Ulfang's camp. His fault, running smack into a patrol of men, tools of murder stashed in his cloak. His fault his brother was gone. Grief rolled over him, over and over, filling his thoughts. A minute went by, Darren cemented in place by grief. Slowly, he became aware of a tugging at his pant leg. He opened his eyes, to a small mouse nibbling on his trousers. Confusion elbowed its way past grief, as Darren watched the mouse, tail half gone and skull sticking out of its forehead, claw and chew at his pant leg. His eyes flicked to the center of his circle, pile of scroll ash making a small hill. The mouse he'd used for the summoning..... the dead mouse....
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| − | He stood quickly, gathering his things, and scuffing the chalk marks out of the floor. He needed a new place to stay, before anyone noticed what he'd done. He was halfway up the stairs when he looked back at the mouse, sitting on its hunches, staring at him from across the room. It looked so lonely, in the darkness of the cellar. Darren sighed, and trounced back down the stairs. He stopped a short distance from the thing, bending down and reaching out to it. It stared at him some more. He clicked his tongue, and the undead rodent wasted no time running up and jumping in his hand. Darren looked at the disheveled mouse, and it's skull sticking out. Darren brushed his free hand through his hair, stoking right down the scar tissue from his branding.
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| − | "Well, at least we match, huh little buddy?"
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Monterys Velaryon
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| − | |Content = As the banners of the Sea Dragons entered the town a hollowing screech ominously bellowed from the town square. Peasants covered their ears and eyes, soldiery stumbled and dazed, seemingly losing focus. Monterys' skins began to crawl as a rush of adrenaline and despair simultaneously filled his body. "Tidemother protect us!" his warrior-priest moaned hoping to call for divine intervention, but there was nothing divine here. Whatever was breeding and growing in the dark pits of western Maroccidens has now found its way to light and to easterner's settlements. The murky depths beyond Root River have bred a beast of unmatched power and unparalleled hunger.
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| − | Monterys ordered his men to clear the way to town square. The Lord General's men quickly removed any peasants that still lingered around, after which he dismounted and apprpoached it. It was huge. A rabbit of the sorts, but not the cute one. It had hundreds of eyes all looking in different directions simultaneously, and a long jaw that nervously moved up and down. Its subjects were flamboyantly brushing its fur that was starting to turn red.
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| − | The Lord General bowed as low as his body allowed, and spoke out with a clear voice. "Oh, great beast of the West, welcome to the lands of the D'Haran Kingdom. His Grace Lord Treasurer Pawl and His Majesty Dragon King Salvador send their regards and saddness that they failed to personally meet you here. Your larger and more robust accommodation has been organized and is ready for you in Paisly in accord with the Most Righteous Margrave Paisly's invitation. We have arranged food for you and your followers and hopefully it will be to your liking. Lord Treasurer Pawl further sends news that the artisans from the Dragon Isles have created fine works of art that he is eager to show to you once you arrive to Paisly."
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| − | The beast stared at him deadly serious, but the Lord General continued. "The armies of the D'Haran Kingdom are on the trail of the perpetrator who dared cast the magic spell upon you and will be caught. We have his name - Ser Darren Rea, a knight of Tol Goldora and a former Madinan. I dare not bother you with details and semantics, but the human ways are peculiar and sadly very cunning.. Have our assurances that the D'Haran Kingdom means no harm to the Zuma as we honor our peace treaty, and are ready to compensate the loss of your followers in any way you deem satisfying".
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| − | Monterys raised his head facing the hundreds of Kettle's eyes and held his breath, waiting for a reply.
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Kettle of the Zuma Coalition
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| − | |Content = “You tell me that this Darren is the cause of my anger. Let us find him and determine the truth of the matter!”.
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| − | She emits some high pitched squeaks and a large amount of the people with her scatter into the town. She screeches loudly and a blast of color seems to leave her as a ripple from a pebble in a pond.
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| − | A short while later a human scream is heard.
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| − | “That was the one you call Darren. Follow that scream and you should be able to capture them with ease, they will be writhing on the floor insensible for a while now!
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| − | “Bring them to me. I shall be in the city, as you say you have prepared appropriate accommodations there.”
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Namika Quasath
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| − | |Content = For her question, Namika earned nothing but creepy-cute stares from the colourful rabbit. After several minutes of silence, Namika bowed again and said, "Thank you for your time." As she turned and was leaving, the rabbit spoke but not to Namika. The rabbit addressed the entire village with her/its booming squeaks and shrills, demanding food and respect for its presence. Disappointment wrinkled Namika's face and she spun on her heel to give a snappy retort when the voice of the Lord General Monterys answered Kettle. Satisfied that the Zuma leader would have their demands met, and with less biting words than from herself, Namika let out a deep breath and walked away again. Like some kind of signal, her movement coincided with Kettle letting out the biggest screamshrill yet. She wasn't even the target, but Namika froze with animal fear at the sound. A scream down the street announced the actual target. Shivering at the power of the rabbit, Namika kept walking to her horse to meet up with her unit. They should have finished their refit by now.
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Darren Rea
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| − | |Content = Hunted, again. Why was it that he was always on the wrong side of these chases? Darren had been searching for a new Inn when the first spell hit, dropping him to his knees on a small side street. He'd managed to stand, carefully making his way down a tight alleyway. He'd shivered for hours, curled up behind some old molding crates. Within a few hours, the next spell hit, refreshing his fever, and adding a sharp pain to to his abdomen. More time passed in agony, but slowly, he was able to uncurl himself out of his hiding place. Clearly, he'd poked a nerve with that monster. He'd just started to get back up, to get away from this insanity, when an unholy screech assaulted his ears. This time, the spell was different, primal. The other spells had been clinical, the magic passing though him and leaving. This, however, this was personal. Fire burned though his belly, and his head snapped back, dizziness dropping him back to his knees, for the fourth time that day. It wasn't over, not by a long shot. Pure pain blossomed from his right hand, mangled for many moons now, old wounds twisting around like snakes, bringing fresh waves of pain as intense as the day they'd mangled it. He screamed, an animal screech ripping from his lungs. Tears of pain dripped slowly down the grim on his face as he stumbled farther down the alleyway, hunting for a hole to hide in. They knew, and they would be coming.
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| − | }}
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| − | | |
| − | {{Message2
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| − | |Type = Roleplay
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| − | |Sender = Monterys Velaryon
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| − | |Content = "The local militia will have their way with him. He shouldn't last long. You have our thanks."
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| − | Monterys bowed before the beast once more, and, escorted by his men, marched off from the town square to meet with the rest of the Sea Dragons. The army was already in column and ready for the march. He mounted his horse and put a dragon helmet on, the helmet's maroon plume fluttered gently on the cool breeze that came sailing from the seas. Sapphire Deep was lovely this time of the year, but there were other pressing matters to attend to. The undead invasion in the south, for example. The swords of the Sea Dragons will have to cut through the sea of undead in order to put them all to the flames.
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| − | Monterys nodded to Margravine Namika, and motioned his captain to begin the march. The horns sounded three times and the banners of the United D'Haran Kingdom of the Dragon, Lion and the Sun began to move.
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| − | }}
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